Virginie was a twenty-nine-year-old nurse in a palliative care unit. I met her when my grandmother was hospitalized with terminal breast cancer.
At first, I didn't pay much attention to this tall brunette with long hair, always tied up in a braid. But she noticed me. At just eighteen, I was a regular visitor to my grandmother's room, and I was deeply affected when, after a few weeks, she passed away.
Virginie sensed my distress and grief. That's when she left me her phone number, telling me I could call her if I felt the need to talk.
I waited almost three weeks before picking up the phone. It wasn't necessarily a lack of courage, even though I was very shy at the idea of talking to this woman, more an embarrassment of confiding in a stranger. But now I really needed it.
We arranged to meet at a café the next day.
At first, I thought she wouldn't come, or that she'd only stay a few minutes. But no, she did come and we talked for several hours! Inevitably, the discussion began with the death of my grandmother and how I was dealing with it. From this serious subject, we moved on to lighter topics. My classes, my high school life, my plans for the future.
That's when I started to pay more attention to my interlocutor's physique. Tight jeans and high leather boots showed off her long, tapered legs. She wore a black turtleneck that molded her torso, accentuating her high, round chest and her slim waist.
Unlike usual, her hair was loose and fell to the middle of her back. This softened her angular face. Above her prominent cheekbones, her deep-blue eyes watched me benevolently. Her thin lips were adorned from time to time with a charming smile, revealing a ravishing row of teeth.
Confident and under her spell, I indulged in a few more personal confidences. She listened attentively, sometimes asking me questions to deepen certain points.
At one point, the discussion turned to my reading. Instead of quoting the great classics I'd read, I started with two surprising books for someone my age: "Story of O" and "Venus in Furr." At this point, as I explained what I liked about these stories, Virginie seemed increasingly interested.
She asked me lots of questions about BDSM, submission and domination, and what it was that turned me on and attracted me to this rather peculiar world. As I finished answering, she asked me in all seriousness if I was interested in knowing what it felt like to be dominated, in real life.
Flabbergasted at first, I finally answered: yes.
The following Saturday, I knocked on the door of Virginie's apartment, in an old building in the city's historic center.
***
She greets me in jogging pants and a T-shirt and invites me in. Shyly, I cross the threshold and enter the apartment. I find myself in a huge room that doubles as kitchen, living room and dining room. Large dark wooden beams decorate the ceiling, contrasting with the white walls. To the right, a row of five windows looks out onto the street. On this early afternoon, the blinds are down, filtering the harsh light from outside.
The kitchen area is set up as close as possible to the entrance and windows. Just beyond, a long solid wood table, framed by benches, defines the dining area. The living room is further back, in the slightly darker corner. An imposing leather sofa occupies almost an entire wall, opposite it are two toadstool armchairs and, in the middle, a massive coffee table on a thick carpet.
“Come and sit down," Virginie gently invites me as I make my way into the living room.
She settles comfortably on the sofa and I sit nervously in one of the armchairs opposite her.
“How are you?" she asks me warmly.
“Stressed.”
She nods, smiling.
“I understand. Don't worry, I'll be fine. You'll love it.”
“It's my first time and...”
“I know all that," she cuts me off gently. “I'll be careful. And you'll always have the chance to stop. You know that, right?”
I nod nervously.
“Good, now you need to get ready. The bathroom's over there," she says, pointing to a door at the back of the living room. “You'll find some accessories there. I want you to put them on and then come back here.”
“All right.”
“When you come back. You will wait for me on your knees in the middle of the room. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Completely naked,” she says.
This last piece of information makes me swallow nervously. But I nod in agreement.
“Perfect then. I'll get ready too. See you soon.”
With that, she gets up and heads for another door, her bedroom door. As she disappears, I rush into the bathroom.
On a small cabinet next to the sink and shower, I see the accessories she's left for me: leather handcuffs for wrists and ankles with metal rings and snap hooks.
My mind's already stopped thinking as I hurriedly undress and close the leather ties around my wrists and ankles. I check that everything is in order and tight, then return to the living room.
Virginie isn't here yet. As she ordered, I kneel down in the middle of the room and wait for her.
A few minutes later, she emerges from her room. And it's not the same woman who appears before me. Goodbye jogging pants and T-shirt. She's now wearing a black bustier that hugs her waist and pushes up her round breasts. Her long legs are molded by thin black stockings held up by a garter belt. At the top of her thighs, black satin panties conceal her intimacy. The thin tips of her high heels rattle as she moves towards me.
Her hair is now tied in a long braid that hangs down her spine, accentuating the oval of her face. A line of black mascara highlights and lengthens her almond-shaped eyes, and dark lipstick adorns her lips, giving her a stern, austere air.
When she stops in front of me, I can hardly breathe. Instinctively, I lower my head.
“Good reflex," she comments. “You didn't look up. That's good.”
She pauses and I feel her hand on my face.
“Today, exceptionally, you can do it. You have the right to look at me and admire me.”
Her hand passes under my chin and gently lifts my face. My eyes are level with her lower abdomen. I can admire her firm thighs, her flat stomach and the roundness of her breasts, amplified by the bustier.
“Today you're going to experience your first domination session," she announces. “And you're going to love it, believe me.”
She smiles at me gently, then continues.
“To begin with, I'm going to inspect you a little. Stand with your legs apart, hands clasped behind your head, elbows apart.”
Given the order, I obey without thinking. She nods her approval.
As I hold the requested position, she circles me. Her hands slide over my skin, her nails lightly scratching. Her slender fingers run delicately up my thighs, but stop well short of my sex. However, this contact plus the excitement of the moment have my penis already standing proud.
“My God, what a beautiful erection," she murmurs in my ear. “It's lovely.”
As she moves behind me, her fingers continue down to my buttocks. They follow the contours of my bouncing muscles and her middle finger digs into my crevice, tickling my anus with the tip of her fingernail. The electrical contact makes me jump.
“Don't move," she orders me in a firm voice.
Immediately, I pull myself together and stand up straight.
“Perfect," she congratulates me, continuing to stroke and caress my buttocks.
Then her hands move up my back, stop on my shoulders and make me lean forward. I don't resist and bow obediently.
"Spread your legs to keep your balance," she advises. "And grab your ankles with your hands."
I follow her instructions to the letter and soon find myself bent over, my buttocks totally exposed and defenseless.
"You've got a great ass," she declares.
Her hands spread my fleshy globes, revealing even more of my wrinkled anus.
“A virgin's ass," Virginie whispers. “What a delight!”
Her long varnished nails play for a few moments in my crevice, giving me a series of electric shocks. But this time, I manage to resist the urge to move. I stay in place, perfectly still.
“You're a quick learner, that's good. It's time I take care of you. Stand up straight, hands behind your back.”
I obey, and a sharp click tells me that my wrists are now bound together. Passing me by again, Virginie takes a seat on the sofa. Once settled, she gestures me towards her. Leaning me forward, she lays me across her lap, my erect sex caught between her thighs.
With my hands tied behind my back, I'm forced to spread my legs to keep my balance, exposing my buttocks a little more.
“It's about time for your first spanking," she announces. “It's going to be a real pleasure to redden that bottom!”
Her hand rises and falls with a sharp snap. The pain is stinging, but tolerable.
“No screams," Virginie marvels. “Admirable little submissive! So I can go with all my heart!”
Putting her money where her mouth is, her hand swoops down on my muscular spheres. As the blows slam into my bottom, the pain intensifies and I feel my buttocks burst into flames.
Instinctively, I fidget, but Virginie holds me firmly in place and picks up the pace a little more, alternating slaps from one buttock to the other.
This goes on for several minutes and, when she finally stops, the first tears start to roll down my cheeks.
“Not bad," she comments. “You did well. You've almost managed to hold yourself in place. That's a good start.”
Grabbing me by the handcuffs, she straightens me up and makes me kneel down in front of her.
“All this has really turned me on," she continues. “It's time you learn how to satisfy a woman's pleasure.”
Standing in front of me, Virginie slowly pulls her panties down her slender legs. In an instant, I'm staring at her perfectly shaved Venus mount. My heart starts to race and I forget the pain baking my buttocks as I catch sight of the thin, dark lips of her vagina, and smell the sweet aroma of her growing arousal.
Getting rid of her panties, she sits back comfortably on the sofa, spreading her legs wide. My gaze is hypnotized by her crotch, and I can barely feel her hands on either side of my face.
Gently but firmly, she pulls me towards her. My head is level with her offered sex. I can see her dark lips, full of desire. Her clitoris, taut and swollen like a penis, starts to emerge from beneath its sheath.
Almost by reflex, I open my mouth and press my lips against the naked flesh of her vulva. I've never done it before. I'm just acting on instinct. My stinging tongue buries itself inside her, moving back and forth along her dripping slit. Her scent intoxicates me as I greedily lick her sex, making the excitement inside her grow.
Head thrown back, eyes half-closed, Virginie undulates her pelvis as my tongue frantically moves up and down inside her, caressing her bow-tight clitoris with every stroke.
I feel waves of pleasure vibrate through her as the rhythm of her hips gradually accelerates. They roll from right to left to amplify her pleasure, and her nails dig into my shoulders, drawing me even tighter against her.
As the wave of pleasure begins to swell her belly, I work hard to maintain contact with her intimacy, directing my tongue towards her increasingly aroused knob of flesh. Suddenly, Virginie lets out a high-pitched cry and her body suddenly tenses as a flood of acrid, creamy juice fills my mouth.